


Home Coming

by JulianGreystoke



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adult relationship, Animals, Astlyr's Thedas, Brothers and Sisters - Freeform, Child, Couple, Cullen's grandparents, Cullen's nephew, Drama, F/M, Goats, Homecoming, Issues, Memories, OC, OU, Oneshot, Original Characters - Freeform, Romance, Spirit Cole, The new ways of old gods universe, family home, healthy relationship, old gods AU, slightly AU, strong relationship, visit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:08:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5290088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianGreystoke/pseuds/JulianGreystoke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Rutherford clan is back in their family home in Honnleath at last, and it wouldn't be a reunion without their far flung brother, Cullen.  After several letters Mia has managed to convince Cullen to come home for a visit, and to bring his unusual lover, Astlyr Adaar.</p><p>(This story takes place within the "New Ways of Old Gods" universe.  While you do not need to have read 'Old Gods' to enjoy this, there are SPOILERS for 'Old Gods' in this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Coming

**Author's Note:**

> This story.... this story is probably cursed. Read on. Enjoy. I'll explain my trials and tribulations afterwards.
> 
> I hope all us US peeps are enjoying a lovely Thanksgiving with as little family drama as possible. If not, why not read about this family drama instead?!

Home Coming

The sun shone with a springtime bliss over the two travelers. Astlyr inhaled a big breath of the warming air. Spring was upon the land at long last. She reveled in the pleasant sounds of returning birds, the squeak of saddle leather, the sound of hooves sloshing mud rather than the crackling in snow. The breeze took a few loose strands of her silver hair and played them across her face and she smelled early flowers and last autumn’s leaves revealed and composting nicely.

Astlyr glanced to the side and slightly behind her. Astride his palomino charger, Flash, rode Cullen. Her lover too appeared to be enjoying the excellent weather. His chin was raised and was taking long, cleansing breathes. The pair of them had been cooped up in Skyhold for so long, dealing with the many issues left to them since Astlyr had saved the world (again) and been made a Teyrna. She had been nervous to leave her fortress behind, and she knew Cullen felt even more strongly about it, but Josie had insisted she had everything under control, and with Guardcaptain Jones taking on more responsibility of late, it did seem that now was the best time for the Teyrna to be away if there was one.

If she was honest, while she deeply enjoyed Cullen's company, Astlyr found she missed the amiable chatter of her usual crew. Varric's constant riffing, frequent acerbic comments from Bull or Fen, and Dorian's engaging banter. Though it had been a few months since the heroic death of their friend, Cassandra, Astlyr could still hear the woman's accented voice joining in the conversation with logic, or a rare bout of sarcasm.

She had also wondered if being away from her Spirit Companion, Cole, might take a toll. No one knew exactly how this Spirit Companion situation worked, especially after what had happened between the two of them at The Battle of Skyhold. She had expected a twinge or two. Perhaps bad dreams. But she felt no pull to return to her spirit friend, besides the usual homesickness.

“I keep waiting for bandits or Venatori to attack us.” Cullen muttered, his mouth quirking in a crooked smile.

Astlyr agreed. “I know. I keep eying every shrub large enough to conceal an attack dog or wild boar. When did we become so distrustful?”

“When the entire world tried to kill us...twice.” Cullen chuckled, reaching down to pat Flash's neck.

Smoke, Astlyr's dapple grey warhorse, made an unsubtle snap for some long, reedy grass which was growing enthusiastically beside the road. Astlyr hauled the mammoth horse's head back around, her eyes instinctively scanning the terrain. A few farm houses dotted the hills nearby. Fat, happy sheep grazed quietly. Astlyr should have felt completely relaxed. This was utter bliss. Open countryside, a quiet day at the perfect temperature. Still a part of her was tense, like a fist of anxiety in her chest. She tried to shake it. She had no reason to fear meeting Cullen's family. Cullen's favorite sister Mia had sent them an invitation. Apparently the entire clan would be gathered at the house where Cullen had grown up, just outside Honnleath. Astlyr sighed. She liked people. Cas used to tell her she was a little too inclined to like people all together, yet she was struck with uneasiness at meeting these people.

“You're certain your family is alright with me coming?” she asked tensely.

Cullen urged Flash to a trot to catch up with Smoke's long stride. He reined up beside Astlyr and reached to grasp her hand, “of course they do. They invited you as well.”

“That could have been a courtesy invitation. They might have assumed-” or hoped, she thought, “that I would be too busy with my responsibilities at Skyhold to accompany you.”

“They want you there,” Cullen assured her.

She met his gold-flecked, hazel eyes and caught the glint of his nerves. She knew for a fact he had never brought a woman home before, let alone one like her. Tall, behorned, alien. And then there was her reputation as Inquisitor and now Teyrna of the very land in which the Rutherfords lived. She knew that she was greatly admired at best, and downright intimidating at worst. It was useful when enemies were about, but not so much when she was trying to make a good impression on the relatives of her lover.

Suddenly Flash lifted his head and whickered loudly. Distantly Astlyr heard another horse answer him, followed by the bleating of several goats and a cow lowing. She glanced at Cullen and he was smiling broadly, if nervously. “My family has a small herd of horses which my Grandparents breed. We sell the foals to the nearby farms at times. Flash is the son of my Grandfather's horse, and when I returned to Fereldan after the mess in Kirkwall Da gave Flash to me as a warhorse.” Cullen caught Astlyr grinning at him. “What?”

“Da? You call your grandfather Da?”

“Maker,” Cullen rolled his eyes expressively. “What did you call yours then?”

“I never knew my grandparents,” Astlyr was skill grinning like a pleased cat. “You're adorable.”

“Stop,” Cullen scolded. Astlyr could see by the set of his shoulders that her playful mockery was relaxing him. He was used to an easy back-and-forth. They had progressed quite a bit since those first stuttering moments of their relationship, though if she wanted to Astlyr could still make her man blush like a lovestruck boy.

The horses called to one another again. “Looks like both of you are coming home,” she pointed out.

“Indeed,” Cullen agreed, a little of his tension returning. She reached across to him and squeezed his upper arm.

The pair crested the final hill. To their right, not half a mile distant, the first outlaying buildings of the small village of Honnleath could be seen. Homey, white washed walls and red tiled roofs. Before the pair of riders sprawled the Rutherford farm. A low slung house which had the look of an old building recently refurbished. A few new rooms appeared to have been added. The outbuildings were freshly painted and a fine, sturdy fence stood around the property.

Cullen had explained to Astlyr that when his family had retreated from the Blight, only his siblings had survived. They had retreated to South Reach, where their grandparents had a small home. Now that the Blight was well and truly over, the family had returned, grandparents in tow, to rebuild and maintain the farm they had always wanted.

As the two rode nearer Astlyr took in the animals dotting the expansive pastures. Fine looking horses and a large herd of goats were only a few of the creatures moved about the busy farmstead. A gaggle of noisy geese strutted dominantly across the yard and a large orange cat perched sagely on a fence rail. Astlyr felt a sense of calm once again prevailing. “This looks a lot like the home I grew up in,” she commented to Cullen.

He smiled thinly at her, his own tension obviously not relieved by the sight of a few goats and a cat. Astlyr turned back to the farm as she and her companion reached the gate. Before she or Cullen could move their horses to open the gate someone appeared in a window, then vanished again. Seconds later the front door was flung open and a woman with hair as red as fire burst through into the day, picking up her skirts and rushing towards them.

The woman scattered geese left and right as she reached the gate and flung it open. “Cullen! You're here!” The woman's eyes lighted on Astlyr and went very wide. Astlyr tried to hide her smile. She was used to this exact expression every time she met someone new. Very few people indeed had the fortitude not to gawk at the formidable creature before them. “Welcome, Teyrna Adaar,” The woman managed as she bobbed a curtsy.

“Please, I told you in my letter, call me Astlyr.” Astlyr said guessing that this woman must be Mia, Cullen's older sister. She urged Smoke through the gate with a gentle nudge of her heels.

“Your letter?” Cullen cocked an eyebrow. “I was unaware you wrote to my sister.”

“Only once,” Astlyr shrugged, pulling the horse to a stop and waiting for Cullen to follow.

“Apparently neither of you are big writers,” Mia said, smiling good-naturely. Astlyr made a quick study of the woman's face. Rounder than Cullen's, but with the same eyes, flashing golden in the spring sunshine. Mia was short, with generous curves and a pleasant smile which Astlyr guessed could become a stern scowl if needed. Mia carried herself with a dominant air, just short of being a military woman herself. Astlyr guessed it to be because Mia was the eldest. “Rosalie and Da are out in the back, trying to get the goats moved to the new pasture. Branson hasn't arrived yet and Andrew is helping Ma in the kitchen,” Mia explained as she walked with the horses towards the small stable near the house. “Ma and I have been baking like mad all day. It's going to be a dinner worthy of our youth, brother mine,” she beamed up at Cullen, who looked even more tense.

“Hmm,” Cullen made a sound in answer. He slid down from the saddle and was instantly wrapped in his sister's arms. It took him the briefest moment to relax into the embrace. Astlyr chuckled as she too dismounted, watching the siblings. She wondered what it would have been like to have brothers and sisters of her own. She often envied Guardswoman Jones and her tales of her many younger sisters.

“We'll put the horses away quickly, then you must come inside to see Ma!” Mia ordered as she finally pulled free of her brother's arms, still grinning fit to burst. Astlyr wasn't certain when she had seen someone so happy. Mia turned to Astlyr again, uncertain. Finally she put out a hand, “good to meet you,” she said.

Astlyr shot Cullen a look, and before he could protest she grabbed Mia's hand and pulled the woman in for a hug of her own. In truth, Astlyr was eager to use Mia as a bit of a test case. To see how these people would react. Would she warm to an embrace from a giant, or run away scared? When Astlyr let her free Mia looked ruffled and she struggled for a moment to compose herself, but compose herself she did. “Ma is going to like you,” she declared, moving to help the pair remove saddles and bridles from the horses. “She's a hugger as well.”

Astlyr caught Cullen giving her a firm stare. He didn't approve, of course. Astlyr's tendency to follow her gut before stopping to think on what might be 'proper' for a Teyrna often annoyed her lover. “At least this time it was only a hug, not a journey into the Fade,” she hissed to him out of the corner of her mouth when the pair drew close together.

The horses seen to, and happily stalled for the night with bags of fresh hay, the three headed for the house. As they crossed the yard Mia seemed barely able to contain herself. She fairly skipped, which was odd to see from a woman who Astlyr knew to be Cullen's senior. Mia's red curls bounced merrily as she kept turning to her brother as if to speak, then thinking better of it. She caught Astlyr's questioning look. “I promised the family I wouldn't grill Cullen with too many questions...at least not until we're all together, and I know that if I start I won't be able to stop.”

Cullen raised both brows, obviously impressed, “Ah. I wondered. Usually you're a flurry of questions.”

“Usually?” Mia's expression of joviality slipped for the barest moment, “Can there be a 'usually' when we see you but once every five years or so?”

“Mia...” Cullen's voice was lowered, the unease returning.

Mia cut a glance towards Astlyr, but said nothing more, returning to her previous jovial expression. There was a thunderous sound from inside the house and a female shout, then a dog came hurtling out the door. A brown mabari hound, greyed at the muzzle and paws with age, threw himself at Cullen's legs and almost knocked the man flat. “Charger!” Cullen crowed, bending down and letting the massive animal cover him is sloppy kisses.

“Hello, fella,” Astlyr greeted the dog who turned and blinked up at her for a moment, then padded over and plopped down on her feet.

“Oh,” said Mia, obviously surprised. “We were trying to keep Charger inside. We didn't know how he'd react to...well to...”

“Me,” Astlyr filled in, scratching the massive animal behind a small, pointed ear. Charger's hind foot thumped and his stump tail wagged.

“Well, you've officially been accepted by the head of the household,” Cullen chuckled, kneeling beside the dog and adding his own hands to the scratching.

“Charger!” a small voice came from inside the house. A little boy with tight brown curls came tramping out the door. He stopped short, eying the group up and down scrupulously. Then he fixed his eyes on the dog, “Charger, Nana says to come inside!” he ordered.

The child was completely ignored by the hound, who stared adoringly between Cullen and Astyr. Mia went to scoop up the boy, who protested with a wiggle. “Mama, no! I haveta get Charger!”

“Matti, come and meet your uncle,” Mia coaxed. “Cullen, this is my son, Matthias”

“'Ello,” Mattie said, not looking away from the dog. Then he raised his curl head. “Uncle?” the boy's interest had returned.

“Yes. Remember I told you? Uncle Cullen has come to visit with-” Mia was clearly uncertain how to describe Astlyr to her son.

“Hello,” Astlyr smiled what she hoped was a warmest smile. “My name is Astlyr.”

“Why do you have horns?” the boy asked.

“She's a qunari.”

Everyone jumped and Charger stood up, growling.

“Cole! Maker's balls!” Astlyr swore before she could stop herself. The spirit boy had appeared beside her, looking as calm and casual as if he had always been there.

“Cullen? What? Who?” Mia looked from the newcomer to her brother with wide, desperate eyes. “Where did he come from? Is he – is he yours?” She shot a confused look at Astlyr.

“Er, yes, in a way... Cole is-” Cullen glared at the spirit boy as he stuttered.

“She has horns because she's a qunari,” Cole pressed on, still addressing the little boy, who had recovered from the sudden appearance almost at once.

“Qun-ar-ni?” Matthias tried, testing the word like a new flavor on his tongue.

“Qunari,” Cole corrected before he hesitated, turning to look at Astlyr. “You're angry with me! Oh. I'm sorry,” he said, his gentle voice sounding alarmed. “I shouldn't have followed like that. I should have let you see me. You don't like it when I don't let you see me.”

“No, Cole, it's not that exactly-” Astlyr began, lamely.

“Cullen, who is this?” Mia asked, more firmly than before. She held Matthias to her protectively, eying Cole.

“I'm her Spirit Companion,” Cole said, attempting a smile, which only Astlyr recognized as such.

“Her-?” Mia shook her head. “You're a spirit?”

“Yes,” the boy said, matter of fact as ever.

Cullen heaved an annoyed sigh, “Mia, I'll explain later. Just know that he is a very good friend of ours who has also helped saved the world, and is not very good in social situations.”

“He wants to know why qunari have cow horns,” Cole tilted his head and looked to Astlyr, translating little Matthias' thoughts.

Astlyr smiled at the boy, not missing a beat she explained, “they're more like dragon horns, really.”

“Dag-on!” Matthias crowed excitedly. “Mama! Horns like a dagon!” the little boy announced gleefully.

“Yes, Matti,” Mia said, obviously thrown by this odd turn of events. “I'm sorry. Your friend is welcome, of course. We don't have a room made up for him, but we can manage. We were only expecting the two of you.”

“I don't sleep,” Cole dipped his head, hat obscuring his face.

“He doesn't sleep.” Mia mumbled, still staring at Cole as though certain he was going to vanish and reappear on the roof or something equally inappropriate. Astlyr thought this was a reasonable fear and tried to mentally send Cole very clear instructions not to teleport anywhere.

“Well then...” Cullen mumbled, his hand already to the back of his neck where he worried a tight muscle. A familiar gesture of unease.

“I didn't mean to make you angry,” Cole said, looking down at his clasped hands. “I tried to be alone in Skyhold, but Astlyr got far away and I couldn't sense her as well and... I was frightened.”

Astlyr sighed and planted a hand on Cole's shoulder. “We haven't been apart since you became my Companion. I'm sorry, Cole. It's alright. We won't be angry for long.”

Cullen's expression was already softening. “Yes, alright Cole. Next time just ask. Or at least let us see you.”

Mia was looking between the three as though all of them might be strangers. Perhaps she was beginning to realize what an unusual life her brother was leading these days. “Someone else is angry,” Cole's head tilted up, his hat flapping. This made little Matthias laugh. At least the child seemed to be enjoying the situation.

Around the side of the house ran three white goats. There were making good time, where ever they were headed, as they hurtled past the group in the front yard. Matthias laughed and cheered “Goats!” Cole immediately teleported to one of the animals and grasped the rope collar it wore, hauling the creature to a halt. The other two goats ignored the capture of the first and made for the fence around the yard, which Astlyr knew at a glance would never hold the determined and clever animals.

Without needing to speak to one another Astlyr and Cullen too sprang into action. Astlyr wished that being Cole's Companion might have conferred some of his powers on to her as she ran after the goat which had broken to the right. Her long stride did catch her up to the animal quickly, though it took one look at her and ran all the faster, as though it had just seen the Fade open up behind it. It gave a terrified bleat as Astlyr managed to grip its collar and dig in her heels to stop the animal short. She glanced around at her friends. Even in the simplest of situations her warrior's instincts kicked it. First deal with the issue at hand, then check in with your allies. It was as natural as breathing.

Cole still held fast to his goat, though the slender boy did not weigh much at all, and it took him nearly climbing onto the goat's back to hold it still. Cullen finally grappled for the collar of his own quarry just as the animal tried to leap between the wide slats of the fence.

“Maker's breath!” gasped a new voice, accompanied by a feminine gasp of surprise. Astlyr turned from her people to see that an older man and a young woman in her early twenties had come around the side of the house at a jog, but stopped short when they saw the scene playing out in the front yard. Astlyr guessed the man to be Cullen's Grandfather, Stanton. Tall, still quite muscular, his red hair and beard trimmed with a generous dusting of white. His bushy eyebrows were raised skyward as he took in his son and two guests.

Beside Mr Rutherford the girl, who must have been Rosalie, blinked large eyes. She was slim and lythe as a willow reed, her own hair straighter, with more gold than red, in the untidy braid. She bore a smattering of faded freckles across her face and down her neck. “Mia, what on the Maker's earth is going on out here?” Stanton asked before his eyes rested on his son and his expression on his weathered face changed from anger and confusion to pleasure. “Cullen!”

“You came!” cheered Rosalie, still hiding slightly behind her grandfather. “And you brought-” she stopped, looking timidly from Astlyr to Cole.

“My...Astlyr,” Cullen stumbled, a gentle blush already creeping over his cheeks. Astlyr recalled a letter she had seen from Mia indicating that their family did not believe Cullen would be seeing Astlyr romantically. Was it because she was Inquisitor, and now Teyrna? Or were there other reasons? She resisted the urge to look down at herself and feel impossibly huge and ungainly. Instead she slouched a bit, so as not to pull on the goat's neck too much as she led the protesting animal back to its owners.

Matthias clapped his hands enthusiastically, and scrambled down from his mother's arms. He ran over to Cole, who was leading his own goat, and wrapped plump hands around the animal's collar beside the spirit boy's slender fingers. A quick smile flicked across Cole's down-turned lips as he slowed so the little boy could 'help' lead the animal. Cullen too came forward, still nervous as he looked up at his grandfather. Astlyr's eyebrows raised, impressed. She had thought Stanton Rutherford seemed tall when compared with his two daughters, but now she realized that he also had half a head on his son as well. Astlyr knew she was still the tallest though, especially with her horns.

“This is Cole...our friend,” Cullen finished lamely, gesturing to the spirit who was trailing behind to match his speed to Matthias'.

“Your friend?” Stanton glanced uncertainly from his grandson to the spirit boy. Cole was dressed in his usual raggedy clothes and oversized hat, while Astlyr and Cullen were garbed in well made traveling clothes. Their boots were muddy, Cole's feet were clean. Astlyr knew the farmer was trying to piece together the contradictions and she decided perhaps she shouldn't let him dwell on it.

“Good to meet you, sir,” Astlyr said, holding out a hand, still gripping the goat's collar with the other.

“You must be Teryna Adaar,” Mr Rutherford didn't hesitate. He extended his hand and clasped hers tightly. “It is an honor to have you in our home. I hope our humble, country fare suits you well enough.”

“Oh I'm sure it will,” Astlyr assured the man, noting his firm grip when he shook. She suspected he was clasping her hand harder than he normally might. She resisted the urge to put extra force into her own grip. She could break finger bones if she wasn't careful. Behind her grandfather Rosalie bobbed a curtsy which Astlyr fervently hoped she was not expected to return because that was never going to happen.

Finally Cole reached the group with the last goat and little Matthias in tow. The goats were rounded up and led away. Rosalie sighed as she took one of the collars. “Merribelle will not stay in her pasture.” She said in a hushed voice, not making eye contact with Astlyr.

“My family had a goat once that could open latches,” Astlyr said, patting the animal's white flank as it was led away.

Rosalie's eyes flicked up to meet Astlyr's for a brief moment before turning shyly back down to her furry charge. A familiar blush was spreading over her cheeks and Astlyr resisted the urge to compare Cullen's face to that of his sister.

“Shall we go inside?” Mia asked. Her shoulders were a bit slumped and she seemed at a loss. Clearly this was not how the first meet-and-greet was intended to have gone.

“Tell Ma we'll be in shortly,” Stanton called over his shoulder as he moved away, one goat collar in each hand.

“Remember to wash up at the well before you come in. You know Ma and I just cleaned the house,” Mia called, a fraction of her in-charge demeanor returning. She turned to her son and clucked her tongue. “Mattie! You let that boy be!” she scolded.

Matthias was climbing Cole as though the slender youth were a tree. He scrabbled up a leg, then grappled for an arm. Cole looked confused, but not alarmed. Finally, as if understanding what was wanted of him, he wrapped slim arms around Matthias and balanced the boy on a boney hip as though he belonged there. Astlyr seldom saw Cole interact with children, but when he did there was always a moment of hesitation, then some instinct seemed to take over. She wondered if something in his past, or perhaps that of the original Cole, came to the surface in those moments. He had once told her that he had forcibly forgotten that life. The life of a child who died in a tower. But she sometimes wondered if a few instincts lingered. He was far more natural with children than she might have been. She heard him speaking quietly to Matthias as they moved towards the front door, answering unspoken questions, “No, I'm not bad. I'm a spirit. I can't teach you to move like I do. Because you're a little boy, and little boys can't do what I do. No, you cannot grow horns either...”

Astlyr stifled a chuckle as she followed Mia and Cullen into the house. They left their boots and weapons in a small mudroom. Mia admired Astlyr's elegant, silver-hued shield. “Cullen had it made for me,” Astlyr boasted.

“You certainly know how to treat a lady,” Mia chuckled, nudging her brother with her elbow.

“Astlyr likes the shield very much,” said Cole, who had taken up the rear and was helping Matthias off with his shoes, at the boy's insistence. “She doesn't want flowers or little cakes. She wants weapons.”

“I see,” Mia said, her brows coming together as she looked Astlyr over again, very quickly. They all made their way into the kitchen. Astlyr was immediately struck with a nostalgia so powerful she nearly gasped aloud. She felt Cole inch closer to her at once, a small, reassuring presence, as ever.

The kitchen was spacious and sunny. The largest windows faced east and looked out over the pastures where the animals grazed quietly. The high ceiling was hung with herbs and drying flowers. The smell of fresh baking was like a physical embrace. Astlyr half expected the woman washing dishes in a basin at the room's east end to be her own mother.

“I thought you lot would never get in here,” the woman turned. She was a small creature. Built like her youngest granddaughter, only slightly curvier. Her hair was a gentle, wavy blond turning almost as silver as Astlyr's was naturally. It was drawn back by a kerchief for baking. Her expression was as warm and inviting as her kitchen, and as her hazel eyes, mirror images of Cullen's own, took in the newcomers, she didn't flinch. Astlyr could count on one hand the people she had met who did not go wide eyed at first. Even her dearest friends had had that initial mixture of awe and fear on their faces. Cullen himself had worn in. This woman, however, took Astlyr in as though this tall, horned woman in her kitchen were a common sight. 

“Dear one!” Cullen's grandmother opened her arms and Cullen stepped immediately into them. “I've missed you so much,” she said into his chest, where her head came to rest. She seemed to be drinking him in. Finally she stepped back, eyes shining as she looked him over. “Maker, but you look so well! Last I saw you, after Kirkwall, you were held together by grit and bailing wire. Now look at you! Glowing! And I suspect that's owed to you,” the woman turned her care-lined face and kind smile on Astlyr.

“I'm pleased to finally meet you, Mrs Rutherford,” Astlyr held out her hand towards the woman. Instead she found arms wrapped about her. This was a complete novelty. Never in Astlyr's recollection had someone hugged her upon first meeting her. She found herself unable to react until Cole loosed one hand from little Matthias' grip and nudged her arm. Then she hugged back, still feeling utterly baffled. Mia looked as shocked as Astlyr felt, but Cullen was wearing a knowing smile.

“Please, dear, you must call me Rosie. And may I call you Astlyr?”

“Of course,” Astlyr smiled, feeling warmed from the inside. She had to admit, as bizarre as this reaction was, she liked it immensely.

Rosie turned to Cole, extending a hand to him as well. “I'm called Cole,” the spirit introduced himself, shaking her hand. A flicker of concern flashed across the woman's face as she touched his skin. Astlyr knew this was because Cole's hands were always icy cold and could never be warmed. “I'm a spirit,” he explained in answer to an unspoken question. He tilted his head back, taking in the room. “I like this place. Anger clings in the corners, but its softer, gentler than other places.” He glanced sideways at Astlyr, “I like her too. She feels her bad feelings and then lets them go and doesn't worry.”

“I'm sorry, what's going on?” Rosie didn't look alarmed, merely curious as she withdrew her hand from Cole's and looked the boy up and down. It was clear that Matthias, still in Cole's arms, was completely enamored and never intended to let go of his new spirit friend. He was playing with the brim of Cole's hat and this seemed to satisfy any fears Rosie might have had.

“It's just how he is...apparently,” Mia said, stepping further into the room and obviously trying to regain a little of her composure. “Is Andrew about?”

“I sent him to the cellar for more preserves and he hasn't come back yet. Which means either the spiders got him, or he can't find the jars.” Rosie explained amiably.

“She's lying about the spiders,” said Cole. Astlyr tried not to laugh.

“Andrew is my husband,” Mia explained as she turned towards a door at the other end of the kitchen. “And I had better go find him. There's a good chance he found something worth snacking on down there and won't come back out on his own.” Mia turned to her son, “are you alright with Cole, Mattie?”

“He likes to be called Matthias,” Cole cocked his head as the little boy played with one of the patches on his tunic. “Mattie makes him sound like a baby.”

Mia bristled, “well Mattie is what I call him. It's my special name for him. He doesn't mind.”

Astlyr knew this could start going in circles very quickly. “It's alright Cole,” she said in a firm tone. Her young friend was getting used to signals from her for when he was supposed to stop reading people's unhappiness out loud. Cole gave her a brief, sorrowed look, but said nothing more.

“Cole!” Matthias crowed in answer to his mother's question before wrapping his arms around Cole's shoulders. “Cole, look at the doggy,” he cried, pointing to Charger, who had just lumbered in and flopped down under the preparation table. It didn't take long before both Cole and Matthias were under the table with the dog.

Rosie laughed appreciatively. “Can we help with dinner, Ma?” Cullen asked, stepped around his grandmother to see what she had been baking. The smell of savory pies wafted through the air and fresh cut vegetables and meats were laid out on the table.

“That is your sister's project,” Rosie shooed her son away. “We've got it under control,” she shot a look towards Astlyr and whispered “he's a disaster in the kitchen.”

“I've gotten much better,” Cullen protested as his grandmother ushered him towards another door, this one clearly leading to the rest of the house. “Go and show Astlyr around. I'll call you for dinner. It should be ready shortly.” She nodded to Astlyr, “we've made several improvements to the house since Cullen grew up here. I'm quite pleased with it.”

“I love the kitchen already,” Astlyr said earnestly as she followed Cullen into the next room. Rosie beamed.

“Your little friend will be alright under there?” Roise gestured to Cole, who was cross legged under the table with a dog's head in his lap and little Matthias avidly explaining something Astlyr couldn't quite make out.

“Oh yes,” Astlyr smiled. Cole must have felt her gaze because he looked up for a second and as soon as their eyes met Astlyr knew how contented he was. She might have to bring him to visit more often.

Cullen showed Astlyr around the house. It was a large, well furnished place, with freshly varnished floors and new paint on the walls. Everything was bright and colorful and pleasant. “This is much larger than the house I grew up in,” Astlyr mentioned as she admired the intricately carved dining room table.

“It's bigger than the house I grew up in too,” Cullen let a little smile twitch his lips. He was standing with arms folded, his tense look returning. “During the Blight Honnleath was overrun with darkspawn. The family had to flee. As I told you, only Mia, Rosalie and Branson got out. They stayed in Southreach with Ma and Da until the Blight ended. That's where Mia met her husband.” He moved to one of the tall dining room windows that overlooked another pasture. He absently ran his fingers down the curtain, which was tied back to allow in the spring sunshine. Distantly Astlyr could see the sky greying. Somewhere a storm was blowing. “After the Blight, King Alistair did his best to give restitution to the families whose livelihoods had been greatly disrupted or destroyed by the Blight. My family lost several herds, a barn and part of the house. With the money from the royal coffers they have been able to rebuild, and make improvements. Mia moved the whole family back here. She'd take care of Ma and Da as they get older, and they can keep raising horses as they always have.”

“Can we see your old bedroom?” Astlyr questioned eagerly, pulling her attention from a portrait which hung above the family table. A young Stanton and Rosie looked warmly over the room, their arms entwined, obviously very much in love. Cullen's Grandfather did manage to look a bit stern as he gazed out over the room, but the painted eyes of Rosie were as warm and gentle as the real ones Astlyr had seen in the kitchen.

“The room Brandon and I shared has been re-purposed into a guest room,” Cullen explained as he gestured towards a narrow stairway.

“I still want to see,” Astlyr said, sliding her hand into his. “I want to see all the important places where you grew up.”

Cullen smiled more deeply then, his eyes shining with a golden glint in the bright room. “Could we ever visit your old home one day?” he asked, guiding her up the stairs.

“After my parents died I sold the animals and the land. A family of dwarves with seven children owned it, last I knew.”

“That's a pity,” Cullen said.

Astlyr shrugged. “I was eager to move on. Without my mother and father it didn't quite feel like my home any more. The humans in the nearby village tolerated me at best and feared me at worst. Though they never did sell our family out if any members of the qun came sniffing around.”

“Did that happen often?” Cullen cocked an eyebrow as they reached the top of the stairs. Astlyr had to duck a bit or scrape her horns on the low stairway ceiling. She didn't think leaving gouges in the plaster would make a good impression on the family.

“No, but my mother was always worried. She'd escaped the qun. My father was born outside it, like me. He was born before Tal-Vashoth were common in Fereldan, so his family wasn't hounded like my mother was used to. For all their worry, the qun didn't find us. I never even saw any other members of my kind.” She waited for Cullen to say something about this being the reason she seldom acted like a qunari, but he didn't. She gave his hand a squeeze as the pair came out into a hallway with rooms on either side and a tall window at the far end bathing everything in golden light.

“This was my room. Well, mine and Branson's,” Cullen opened the nearest door. “My sisters shared the next room down.”

The room was half the size of Astlyr's at Skyhold. Three beds were set up with warm, homespun blankets and goose down pillows. Sprigs of dried flowers hung above each bed, and there was a freshly trimmed candle on each bedside table. The ceiling on the left side of the room slanted downwards with the roof of the house. Cullen sat on the nearest bed, Astlyr coming to sit beside him. She was pleased when the little bed didn't creak or protest at her weight. Some furniture was not made for people her size. “What was it like when you lived here?” Astlyr asked, admiring the brightly colored rag run on the floor. Just like one her mother had owned.

“Messier,” Cullen shrugged. “My brother and I had the room filled to bursting with little soldiers and wooden swords. I even had a small collect of wooden horses for my soldiers to ride,” he glanced sideways at Astlyr, “Oh, stop giving me that look. I wasn't so adorable.”

“Yes you were,” Astlyr said, completely unable to keep a big smile from her lips. “I'm picturing little Cullen playing on the floor with his toy soldiers-”

“You hush,” He mock-scolded, bumping his shoulder into hers. “I'm sure you were cute too, as a child. What do you suppose happened?”

“Sass from you?” Astlyr gave his shoulder a good buffet that nearly knocked him off the bed. He laughed. The sound echoed off the slanted ceiling and pleasantly filled the room. When the laughter finished seeking each fond corner of Cullen's childhood Astlyr asked, “what were your brothers and sisters like as children?”

Cullen rocked back a bit on the bed, looking up at the ceiling, ribbed with round logs to support the smaller slats. Astlyr admired a good ceiling. “Rosalie was still quite young when I left home to join the templar order. I honestly don't know her all that well. Branson was...quiet. I think he felt overshadowed sometimes. I was the one with the dreams and ambitions in the family.”

“What about Mia?”

Cullen ran his hand over the carved headboard of the bed, his fingers seeking subtly, for what, Astlyr wasn't certain. “She has always been much more interested in learning how to run the farm. To cook, sew, build, care for the animals. I was the one who wanted to leave home. Go on adventures.”

“Well, you certainly had adventures,” Astlyr said, though she knew that the majority of Cullen's life as a templar had been plagued with hardships, bad dreams and waking nightmares. He gave a dry chuckle as he seemed to find what he was searching for. He took Astlyr hand and pulled it to the headboard. Below the new coat of white paint she felt little grooves in the wood. Cullen guided her fingertips around until she understood and she smiled. “Cullen Stanton Rutherford.”

“I had a pocket knife as a boy and carved my name in anything I could get away with. Half the trees in the back pasture have my name on them somewhere. It's also carved into the bottom of the kitchen table.”

“Eager to carve out a name for yourself. It makes sense,” Astlyr chuckled as she ran her fingers over the shallow grooves. Even painted over they would remain. The proof of the man who sat beside her.

“Branson became a templar as well, even as I advised against it in the few letters I sent. He managed to survive it better than I. He didn't end up in the Fereldan circle as I did or he would have been dead. He went to a smaller circle to the east. Of course, the mages there rebelled as well, but it was significantly more manageable, as far as I know. When the family fled to Southreach he was able to be transferred to a circle there.”

“You have all the good luck,” Astlyr said, kissing Cullen forehead at his hairline.

“Don't I just? I kept a lot of the hardships out of the family knowledge. One of the reasons I visit so seldom.” he settled his hands on his lap and looked down at them. Like Astlyr's they bore many small scars.

“And why you were so short with your letters to your sister?”

Cullen gave a single, dry chuckle. “Actually, I just don't like writing, especially about myself. I find it to be a waste of time. There are always reports to fill out instead.”

Astlyr cocked her head, wondering, “Why is it your sister who writes you? Why not your grandparents?”

Cullen grimaced slightly. “They... never learned to write terribly well. They've gotten much better since I have been an adult, but growing up, they never had much reason to learn. We were well educated, however. Mia took to it the most. She became obsessed with collecting books. Actually, most of her library survived the Blight. These days, while Ma and Da have some reading and writing ability, they got used to Mia being the written voice of the family. I know she shares what letters I write with the whole everyone. I think she even mails copies to Branson.”

Astlyr could tell by his blush that Cullen was not exactly fond of this practice. “You don't like your family to know when you're unhappy.” She surmised.

He shrugged, still studying his hands. “I was so damned ambitious as a child. My father wasn't thrilled. He wanted his first son to carry on, take over the farm, keep up the family name and produce lots of little Rutherfords with a pretty farm lass from the village. I don't like them to know how miserable parts of my life have been. I don't like to think I made a mistake, leaving home.”

“Some things is life are too complicated to decide if they are a mistake or not,” Astlyr said, sliding her hand into his. Her caramel brown skin a contrast to his pale complexion. “But I know one mistake I'm glad you made.” She reached with her other hand, gently pressing her fingertips to his jaw she turned his head so he was looking up at her. Then she kissed him. A full, proper kiss that made his hand stray to her thigh.

They broke apart and Cullen smiled broadly, if a little drunkenly. “Perhaps one or two of life's unexpected moments have worked out well for me.” he stood, “Come on. Let's go down and see if we can help setting the table. The smell of all that good food is killing me.” he offered her his hand again, which she took, allowing herself to be guided back down the stairs.

“So your sister is married, your brother a templar and your youngest sister lives at home yet?” Astlyr asked as they went, trying to keep things straight in her head.

“Yes. I'm certain Mia has her eye on half the men in the village for Rosalie, but she's very shy.”

“So it wasn't just the horns that scared her in the yard?” Astlyr ducked low again on the stairs.

“Well, not just, but I imagine they helped.” Back in the dining room now Cullen turned to face her, looking up into her eyes. “Just to be clear, I have come to like your horns very much.”

“They grow on you,” Astlyr grinned.

“No, they grow on you,” Cullen snarked. Astlyr laughed feeling a bloom of pride. While far from being humorless, her man had a tendency to lean towards the stoic. She'd been carefully whittling down his straitlaced proclivities, probably ever since they had first met. His face changed again as the pair moved towards the kitchen to investigate the lovely smells coming from within. “I feel like I should warn you-” he hesitated.

“Of? Does your family also keep a herd of giant spiders in the cellar after all?”

“My grandfather can be a little...I suppose 'insensitive' is a suitable word for it. 'Intense', perhaps, is another.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck.

“I've dealt with angry ogres and demons, Cullen. I think I'll manage your grandfather.”

“Oh, I am certain you will,” Cullen said, his half smile drawing the scar of his lip tight. “I just hope no one else gets killed in the crossfire.”

“I'll behave,” Astlyr smirked. “I left my weapons with my boots at the door.”

The kitchen was a bustle of activity. Rosalie and Stanton had come in from the pasture and managed to track mud. This got Mia scolding the pair of them, and little Matthias joining in with his own babbled thoughts on the matter. Cole was still tucked under the table, looking tense now. When Astlyr entered he teleported to her side. Then the family was joined by Cullen's younger brother, Branson, freshly arrived and still clad in his tunic of office as a templar. As everyone hurried to greet him Astlyr wondered if Branson had chosen his garb to effect Cullen in some way. She glanced at her man to see his expression pointedly blank.

Greetings were exchanged and Astlyr found that Branson expressed another common reaction to meet the qunari Inquisitor. Distrust bordering on anger. His eyes, blue like their grandfather's seemed to bore into Astlyr. His handshake had been brief and careful, and he had stepped back at once.

Branson very much resembled his brother. He looked how Astlyr imagined Cullen might have without his time in Kinloch Hold or Kirkwall. His face was unscarred, his cheeks much more full and his eyes, while filled with mistrust, betrayed a life of relative ease.

~~~~

The family managed to get settled in for dinner. Astyr was familiar with the 'family dinners', as they were sometimes called, with her people at Skyhold. A gathering of her inner circle together in the tavern for a meal, drinks, games, and often music and dancing. She could recall sitting down for meals with her mother and father, though those were often quiet affairs. This supper was quite unlike anything Astlyr had yet experienced.

Mr Rutherford sat at the head of the table, his wife on his right and Branson on his left. Astlyr and Cullen sat across from Mia and her husband, with Matthias between his parents on a raised seat, and Cole was given a spot across from Rosalie, who kept unabashedly staring at him. Astlyr had instructed Cole to sit politely and as silently as he could manage. She could sense his displeasure, but he was, thus far, able to keep the negative emotions in the room to himself. Though, Astlyr thought wryly, he may have been the only one.

“So, these elves-” Stanton began as they enjoyed some soup made with early spring foraged greens and goat milk. Astlyr recognized several of her favorite plants as she sipped appreciatively.

“Da,” Cullen said at once, his tone low and cautioning.

“Cullen, we have the Inquisitor in our house. If we cannot ask her questions, what is the use of her being here?”

“To meet the woman our grandson is seeing,” Rosie said placidly. Her words were not scolding, merely factual.

“Yes, alright, we've met her, but now I want to talk about elves. Does that bother you?” he shot Astlyr a look so sharp it might have been an elbow to her ribs.

“No, we can talk about anything you like,” she said, even as she felt Cullen's shoulders sag beside her.

“Good. You see?” Stanton glanced around at his family, then pressed on. “All we ever hear around these parts are rumors. All sorts of things. About gods, and false gods, and freed slaves. What I've pieced together is that a load of elves went to war against Ferelden and you had to stop them at your fortress. This is all well and good, but I hear that now they all live below the mountain in some sort of shanty town?”

“Well, that is the basic idea, yes,” Astlyr said, “the gods do come into it...in rather hard to explain ways.” She was eager to avoid admitting to being close friends with several elvhen 'deities'. That might be even more challenging to explain over dinner, never mind her brief transformation into one. “They don't really live in a shanty town any longer. We've been helping them build homes and begin to make a life for themselves-”

“But they're elves. Shouldn't they go back to doing what elves do? Prancing through forests, or living in alienages?”

Astlyr winced, but tried not to show it. She took another blissful mouthful of soup to buy herself time to answer. Cullen spoke instead, “they're prisoners of war, in many aspects. Most of the Dalish would like to return to their old lives, but their gods--their leaders--are allies of Skyhold, and the Dalish were just as much a part of the attack as the ex-slaves or city elves.”

“And you've given no thought to the damage this sudden lack of elves will do to the economies of the various nations you've stolen them from?” Stanton cocked an eyebrow.

“They haven't been stolen, Da,” Mia piped up in a fluttery, but helpful tone. “They're prisoners who hope one day to be integrated into a new society.”

“Well it all sounds pretty iffy to me. If I was running Skyhold-” Stanton paused when his wife set a delicate hand on his arm. “Well, things would just be different is all...” he trailed off, suddenly focused on his meal.

“Are you sure you don't want any soup, Cole?” asked Rosie, looking up at the spirit boy.

“I don't eat,” Cole explained for probably the third time that evening. He hadn't wanted to sit at the table, but the family had insisted.

“Cole soup! Cole soup!” Matthias insisted, waving his spoon and splashing his father, who had to spend several moments cleaning the front of his tunic.

“That's another thing,” Stanton said as his wife rose to get the next course started. Hearty, well dressed woodland foul which looked as though it had weathered the winter exceptionally well, accompanied by two smaller hens from the family's own flock. Each was seasoned with garlic and early wild onion. The smell was enough to make Astlyr salivate, but she kept her attention respectfully on the man at the head of the table. “What is Cole, exactly?”

“I'm a spirit,” Cole answered as little Matthias tried to throw a piece of bread his way. The spirit boy caught it and set it gingerly on his empty plate.

“A spirit. Mhhm. So you've told us. And what exactly is a spirit then?”

“A creature from the Fade,” Branson spoke for the first time, though he hadn't stopped watching Astlyr intently all through the first course.

“The Fade?” Mia raised an eyebrow. “Maker, but, isn't it dangerous running around with a fade creature? Wasn't the Fade the reason all those demons were pouring out through rifts not even a year gone?”

“I was worried I was dangerous once,” Cole said, head turned down so his white-blond hair fell over his eyes in a long fringe. He'd been instructed to take his hat off at the table. “I know I'm not now. Now that I'm Astlyr's Companion, I-”

“Her what?”

“Companion,” Cole pressed before he caught a warning look from Cullen.

“You brought a Fade creature into the family home?” Branson asked Cullen pointedly. “You thought that was alright?”

“Of course it is,” Cullen's tone was husky. “He's a war hero, a true friend, and no more danger to any of us than Matthias is.”

Astlyr felt a swell of pride at Cullen's words, but Branson looked even more upset and Mia was beginning to share his nervous look. Rosalie was leaning father away from the boy at her end of the table, eying him with fresh suspicion. “You're a templar, Cullen, you should know better- oh, sorry, ex-templar.”

“Branson,” Rosie's voice was a warning, and the first time Astlyr had heard the woman's tone carry an edge.

Astlyr shot Cullen a questioning glance before speaking. “Cullen is the leader of the templars at Skyhold. He very much embodies all that The Order stands for.”

Branson made a clucking sound with his tongue and curled his lip. Then he reached down to his belt and selected a little blue vial from a pouch. Astlyr felt Cullen flinch and she had to fight the very powerful urge to stand up and swat the lyrium out of Branson's hand. At the end of the table Cole flickered, clearly feeling Astlyr' and Cullen's distress and just managing to keep himself from teleporting.

“Oh Branson, do you have to do that at the table?” Mia asked with a pleading edge to her voice.

“I have to keep up my abilities if my brother is going to allow de-- Fade creatures into the house.” He made a show of downing every drop in the little vial. Astlyr found Cullen's hand under the table and squeezed it.

“So,” Mia made a desperate stab at changing the subject, “tell me how the two of you met.”

“She fell out of the Fade and led an army to victory against an ancient darkspawn magister,” Cullen said, without a hint of mirth. He was locked in a glaring contest with Branson.

“No, I mean, what did you first think of her? She...well, she isn't what I would have guessed would be your type. Wasn't your last lady an elf from the tower? What ever happened to her?”

“I have no idea,” Cullen said between slightly gritted teeth.

“I met Cullen for the first time in the Frostback mountains right after the attack on the Temple of Sacred Ashes,” Astlyr said hastily.

“What were you doing there anyhow?” Stanton asked, pointing a fork in her direction.

“Honestly, Da,” Mia scoffed, “You cannot still be suspicious of the Inquisitor. She saved the world. Twice!”

Astlyr pressed on. “I wasn't certain what to think of this commander,” she nudged Cullen with her shoulder, hoping to snap him from his glaring. This failed she sighed and continued, “He grew on me. It was clear that he was one of the finest and most capable soldiers I had ever met-” she turned her look pointedly to Branson, “and we weathered many battles together. He's always been better at leading large armies, where my strength lies with small unit tactics.”

“Really? That's interesting,” Andrew, Mia's husband, seemed engaged for the first time. Astlyr allowed herself to fall into an easy rhythm of describing one of their battles to him. Soon the rest of the family seemed to settle in to listen as Astlyr extolled the virtues of Cullen's knowledge coupled with her own leadership style.

For some time the meal was far more pleasant. Astlyr and Cullen recounted various battles and exploits and everyone listened, asking only brief questions. Mia's husband, Andrew, was a quiet, gentle sort, but he was most intrigued by talk of tactics, war rooms and battle plans. Mia warned that Cullen should have to play against Andrew at chess later in the evening.

“Now, normally the strategy we use is for myself and Skyhold's army to cause a rather large and noisy distraction while Astlyr and her smaller strike team move in for the kill. Sometimes we change things up. Such as when we aided the mages in Fereldan.” Cullen was saying, already arranging his cutlery to represent enemy forces. “Then we used Astlyr as the distraction as Lelianna's spies and assassins went in to make it a swift and decisive victory...which it eventually was,” Cullen sat back, clearly having decided to leave out the part where Astlyr and the then unknown mage, Dorian, had wound up time traveling to a dark future world.

“On the subject of the mages,” it was Branson again, and he was looking peevish. “I know you sided with them, built them a college inside your fortress and encouraged them to be free. You had to know this would upset a lot of people.”

“Of course,” said Astlyr, keeping her tone level. She'd received many a hate filled rant or scornful letter about her 'mage loving' ways.

“Is it true you keep a magister in your inner circle?” Branson snapped.

“I- he's not a ma-” Astlyr blinked a few times in surprise at his sudden venom and volume.

“You let these powerful people roam around freely and you keep and coddle them at your fortress like they're special children when really they're dangerous. Have you ever seen a mage turn to blood magic? Transform into an abomination?”

“She has,” Cullen said, his own voice a low growl. “And you know I have. Repeatedly.”

“And you still side with them? With her decision?” Branson's eyes were focused on his brother, but he jabbed a thumb towards Astlyr. “I suppose you don't realize, while you're sitting up there in your mountain fortress with your pet mages, how much your actions have effected the lives of all of us down here in the dirt. We few remaining templars are struggling to contain these people and you're not helping with all these 'free colleges' being built all over. It's only encouraging the mages to think highly of themselves.”

“Her hands are aflame and she sees me and smiles a wicked smile. A dark wound in her beautiful face. Her eyes are hollow voids and I can see the demon inside her heart. She's always been evil.” Cole intoned darkly.

“Alright,” Rosie stood up before Branson and Cullen, who looked fit to tear into one another like fighting mabari, could have a chance. “I think we've had enough dinner. Astlyr and I will clear things away. Cullen, why don't you and Andrew play a game or two of chess? Stanton, will you get a fire going? The night's turning a bit chilly.”

Everyone hesitated, then stood, tidying up their plates in silence. “Ma, I can help with the dishes,” Mia piped up as Rosalie fled into the other room ahead of the others.

“I know you can, but I'd like Astlyr to do it.” Rosie smiled benevolently at her family.

Astlyr felt a bit awkward as Cullen and the rest moved on to the next room, which was a cozy living space which she had toured earlier. She watched Rosie bustled around the table, clearing plates. Astlyr mimicked the small woman's motions, loading her arms with dishes. “Are you sure they'll be alright in there?” Astlyr asked, cocking and eyebrow in the direction of the others.

“If I know my family, all it will take is a few good games of chess to settle them. Let Cullen slip back in with his siblings for a bit. Right now he's an outsider to them.” Rosie moved towards the kitchen and Astlyr followed. She had to dodge the herbs dangling from the rafters, though some hanging rue got tangled on a horn none the less.

Rosie chuckled as Astlyr gingerly freed her horn from the dried flower. “At least you have nice high ceilings,” Astlyr smiled.

“Those must be a trial sometimes,” the kind woman said, gesturing to Astlyr's horns before dumping hot water from a kettle over the cooking fire into the wash basin. “Fetch me some water from the barrel outside the door?”

Astlyr obliged. As she stepped out the front door she smelled the familiar scent of rain on the wind. She turned to look towards the far fields and rolling hills. It was clear now that a spring storm was well on its way. She suppose it would feel good to be rained on rather than snowed on for a change. She extracted a bucket full of cold well water from the barrel and brought it inside, adding it to the hot already in the wash basin. Then the two women set about washing up.

Astlyr couldn't help but smile fondly. “I haven't done this in ages. I left home when I was fifteen and mercenaries don't clean a lot of dishes.”

“I imagine not,” Rosie chuckled. “I've heard all the tales of how you became Inquisitor.”

“Wrong place, wrong time,” Astlyr said, carefully drying a plate. She suspected that this was a good dinnerware and she wasn't eager to break anything.

“Or, right place and exactly the right time,” Rosie was giving her a pointed smile.

“Some people do tend to believe that,” Astlyr agreed.

“And you?”

“I'm not sure what I believe. I don't think I was chosen of Andraste, if that's what you're asking.”

“Perhaps not. Perhaps it was luck that brought you to the Inquisition. And brought you to my Cullen.”

Astlyr flinched slightly. She couldn't help it. She'd been dreading this conversation. No one who saw her and Cullen together understood why they fit. At least those who did not know them well. Astlyr braced for 'what are your intentions towards my grandson?' 'How did the two of you decide to...?' Perhaps even 'how do you have sex?'

“He seems happy with you,” Rosie said instead. “It makes me so pleased to see the way he is around you. I knew a joyful, motivated, eager little boy once. And then, after the Chantry, he became a ghost of himself. Distrustful. In pain. He tried to hide it, but of course I knew. No grandmother wants that for their grandchild. The few times he visited I saw that hollow look in his eyes.”

“I've seen it too,” Astlyr agreed, watching the slight woman with interest.

“And then things went so poorly in Kirkwall, and that was supposed to be his second chance.” Rosie cocked her head, a few strands of silver hair falling free across her lined brow. Astlyr knew a face furrowed with years of laughter, and also sadness, when she saw one. This woman's face was so very like her grandson's it almost hurt. She knew that Rosie felt every twinge her adoptive children experienced. She couldn't help but marvel at it. She only had some degree of this attachment with her men.

Rosie's eyes sparkled. “Seems that the third chance is the charm. He's off that blasted lyrium, he's got a good job, and now he has someone special in his life. I know you're not the sole cause of his happiness, but I suspect you had a great deal to do with it.”

“I try to help,” Astlyr smiled, putting away the last of the plates neatly in a cupboard. She did this easily thanks to her height, and she almost chuckled as she suspected Rosie would need a step stool to comfortably reach everything in her kitchen.

“Well, you seem to be doing a good job,” Rosie beamed.

Thunder rattled through the kitchen then and both women turned to the window. The storm clouds were roiling in over a tall hilltop. Rosie clucked her tongue. “Spring in these parts is just one storm after another.”

“Is everything battened down?” Astlyr asked, watching the ominous clouds churn like a living thing, creeping across the landscape and threatening the trees.

“I believe so. Perhaps I'll check with Stanton.” Rosie set down her dishcloth and moved off to the next room. Astlyr fished in the warm water and found a few cups still in need of cleaning. She wiped them absently, watching the weather change before her eyes. The sky going grey-ish green, tinged with lances of silver light.

“I'm sorry,”

Astlyr jumped, almost dropping the cup. She didn't need to turn to know the voice. “Hello, Cole. Are you alright?” she asked her friend as he walked over to join her by the sink. “I'm surprised Matthias let you go.”

“He fell sleep by the fire,” Cole explained, He watched her wash the cup with curious eyes. He did not offer to help, though she did not expect him to. Instead he moved to the table and pulled himself up so he was sitting upon it, swinging his legs. “Cullen's family is like where three rivers meet,” Cole fidgeted with his hands, absently. Astlyr knew he was unconsciously untangling threads of people's pain. “They want to like you, to understand Cullen, but when the rivers meet they all churn and froth foamy and white. Some of the water is salty.”

“Mixed emotions are hard,” Astlyr agreed, finishing the last cup and turning to the boy, resting her hip against the washing basin.

“Cullen's worried they won't like you. They have to like you. He wants all the pieces to fit and some of them are too big and one is from a different puzzle. Black and blank and bad. Lost little bits under the carpet.”

“He shouldn't worry,” Astlyr shook her head. “Not everyone needs to like me. His grandmother does, I think. Maybe his sister, Mia.”

“Why, Cullen?” Cole's spine went rigid and he changed his voice. Sometimes he imitated the accent or tone of someone, if he was getting a clear read on their pain. “Why her? She's so...big! And after what the qunari did in Kirkwall, you still trust her? You trust her choices? She's the Inquisitor, she's a Teyrna now, and she has greater things to worry about than you. Are you really sure you thought this through?”

“Cole,” Astlyr moved to him, taking his hands in hers. His fingers twitched against her palms. “Please. I know you can't stop listening, but please stop speaking it aloud. I shouldn't hear this.”

“Baby brother, bold and brave. He'll go farther and farther into the world and he comes back broken and she could break him worse than anything. He's made bad choices, is he making another? He only just stopped drowning.” Cole's words were rapid and breathy, but still clearly Mia's. “Dangerous creature. A mystery, a hero, a contradiction. She brings a Fade creature into the house and we're expected to trust her, or it-”

“Cole,” Astlyr made her voice louder, firmer, but she hoped not so much that others would come to check on them. She considered reaching for a nearby knife. In a pinch she could cut herself to snap her Spirit Companion out of a deep trance, but she didn't like to. It felt manipulative.

The boy blinked a few times, bringing himself back from his mental searching. “There's so much old pain here. Wounds that never healed so now they fester.” he mumbled.

“How much of it is Cullen's?” Astlyr asked before she could stop herself.

“Not as much,” Cole mumbled, looking down at his hands within hers as if realizing for the first time that she was holding them.

“Alright. At least there's that.” Astlyr sighed. She moved to lean against the table beside Cole and they were both silent for a long moment, watching the storm roll in through the kitchen windows. “Come on,” she nudged Cole's shoulder with her arm, gently. “Let's go join the family. Maybe we can change some minds”

“Minds don't change,” Cole cocked his head, but followed her. He hesitated, “is that another figure of speech?”

“Very good, Cole,” Astlyr congratulated warmly. “You're getting better at recognizing that sort of thing.”

“Varric speaks with those a lot,” Cole shrugged as the pair crossed the empty dining room and went into the living room.

A fire was crackling away on the hearth and Cullen was seated across from Branson, both leaning forward intently over a game of chess. Stanton was sitting in a large chair near the fire and he was speaking to his wife in low, reassuring tones. Astlyr guessed they were discussing the impending storm.

Rosalie was on the floor with little Matthias. The boy had cuddled up to her with his curly head in his aunt's lap. Andrew was quietly reading in a corner and Mia was watching the chess game with an expert gaze. She looked up as soon as Astlyr entered and her face flashed again with the fleeting expression of surprise. Sometimes people forgot how tall Astlyr was.

“Oh, Astlyr, I'm sorry to leave you for so long,” Rosie said, looking up and smiling warmly. She gave Cole a slightly uneasy look, but seemed to refrain from mentioning him. He must have teleported out of the living room when he went to join Astlyr in the kitchen. It would take the family a while to get used to that. Branson glanced up and scowled at Cole, who moved to the back of the room and settled himself, like a shadow, beside a book shelf where he would be unobtrusive and possibly forgotten.

“It's alright,” Astlyr reassured Cullen's grandmother. “There were only a few dishes to finish up. How goes the game, Kadan?” she turned to her man and moved to stand behind him. She placed a hand absently on Cullen's shoulder. His hand moved up to rest on hers just as naturally. “Branson has me backed into a bit of a corner, but I think...” Cullen paused, then lifted a piece. He moved it expertly and flicked one of his brother's pieces out of the way before setting his own in the square. “There we are.”

Branson made an annoyed sound. His eyes flicked up to Astlyr, but only for a moment. He seemed too consumed in the game to start lobbing angry words at her for the moment. He rubbed a stubbly chin.

“Do you play, Astlyr?” Rosie asked.

“Not well,” Astlyr admitted. “Not as well as Cullen anyway.”

“You've beaten me a few times,” Cullen pointed out.

“Dorian makes a better opponent for you,” Astlyr said as Mia moved to a bookshelf and took down another game board. Astlyr paused a moment to appreciate the number of books in the room. Mia's rescued collection, she guessed. Astlyr was not much of a reader, but she knew someone else would have felt right at home in that room. Dorian was an avid reader and book lover. As she scanned the shelves she noted that one was devoted entirely to board games. No wonder Cullen had grown up so determined to beat his siblings at chess. It was clear the whole family played.

Mia set out a fresh game for herself and Astlyr, and the pair settled down to it. Charger, the mabari hound, strode over and seated himself of Astlyr's feet. “Well, the dog likes you. That is a good sign,” Mia pointed out as she set out the pieces.

“Large animals are usually fond of me,” Astlyr agreed, reaching down to pat the aging mabari. “I had a dog very like him when I was a child.”

Mia and Astlyr launched into their game. Cullen's sister asked many questions as they played. About Astlyr's past, her childhood and her time as a mercenary, more details about her stint as Inquisitor, and of the elf situation. Mia was clearly attempting to keep her questions broad enough so that things would not turn political again. Branson, for his part, only seemed to be half listening, which was probably for the best. Astlyr wondered if Cullen was drawing out his game to keep his brother distracted.

“So,” Mia exchanged another of her pieces for Astlyr's, “where do you think you and Cullen are headed? Check.”

“Mia,” Cullen scolded, making it clear that he had been listening intently. His eyes, rendered even more golden in hue by the firelight, darted up to his sister's. A warning.

“It's a valid question. Where do the pair of your think your relationship is heading? Marriage? Children? Can qunari and humans even-?”

“Mia!” Cullen's tone was more threatening. “This is none of your business.”

Several of the other family members were paying attention now. Rosie seemed torn between interfering or letting her grandson handle his sibling.

“Marry her?” Stanton snorted, then looked down, clearly embarrassed at having said this aloud.

“Mia, Da, please,” Cullen said, his eyes now darting between the eyes of each of his family members. Everyone one was staring at him now, even Rosalie.

“I think it would be romantic,” Rosalie announced. “If they got married. Wouldn't it?” No one answered her. Astlyr was a little surprised to hear so many words from the shy young woman. “I think it's all romantic. Meeting during wartime and not realizing right away that they were falling in love. It's like a story in a book,” she looked to Cullen, a flickering smile on her lips. Her cheeks had turned vibrantly red. Her blush spread so deeply even her eyelids went pinkish.

“Thank you, Rosalie,” Cullen smiled warmly at his youngest sibling. To the rest he said, “we have no plans of marrying at the moment. Things may change in the future, but until then, Astlyr and I are very much a united front.”

“You sound like you're going into battle.” Branson scoffed.

“We do. Frequently,” Astlyr said, trying to decide on her next chess move, but finding herself unable to concentrate on the board. Was Cole affording her some glimpse into the mixed feelings of this family, or were they truly so tense that even she could feel it?

“Cullen, haven't you been through enough battles?” Mia scowled now, her pretty round face clearly unused to the expression.

“Mia, I'm a warrior. Like Da, or Branson. Warriors go to war. Astlyr goes with me.”

Astlyr waited for Mia to say something about how a battlefield was no place for a woman, but upon a second glance at Astlyr she guessed that Mia was willing to concede. If there was any woman who clearly belonged in combat, it was Astlyr. Cullen was about to protest again, when a fresh roll of thunder rattled the window panes. Matthias woke up with an alarmed squeak and pulled himself further into Rosalie's lap.

Distantly Astlyr heard another sound. A clattering crash, wind, and the 'thump thump' of something made of wood smacking repeatedly against something else. “Dammit!” Stanton stood and crossed to a window and pulled aside a curtain and peered out into the pasture. “Shit.”

“Da!” Rosalie placed her hands over Matthias' ears.

“The barn door blew open and the stallion's loose. He'll hurt himself trying to get to the mares. I have to go.” he rushed out of the room.

Cullen and Branson stood and followed. Astlyr only hesitated a second, then rushed after them. The men made no protest as Astlyr pulled on her traveling coat and boots.

It took Branson putting his shoulder to the front door to push it open against the wind. The rain outside was biting, lancing down in lean droplets that fell nearly sideways. Astlyr felt her coat was more of a hindrance as the wind grappled with it, nearly pushing even her around. She heard a whinny and looked up to see a proud, black horse prancing around in the rain. She knew he must be the stallion. The weather only seemed to spur him on as he darted back and forth along the fence which barred him from where the mares were stabled, snorting and arching his handsome neck.

From inside the stable several mares called to the stud. He swished his tail and answered back.

“That's Arrow Head,” Stanton pointed to the stallion. “He can be a handful, but his offspring are the most beautiful in the county.”

Arrow Head looked to the people who had come to collect him and let out a low snort. Astlyr could tell by the set of his ears that he did not intend to be easy to catch. “No one get kicked,” Cullen warned as he went to the barn for some ropes.

The barn door latch had broken in the wind and the big door slapped repeatedly back into place. This was the sound Astlyr had heard from inside the house. Lighting forked menacingly across the sky. “Maker!” Branson yelled, “Arrow'll get struck by lightning at this rate!”

“We'll get him in,” Cullen reassured his sibling, passing out the ropes as well as a few sugar cubes. Perhaps they could tempt the horse closer with the promise of treats.

The four of them moved into the pasture, arms spread, ropes ready. The horse eyed them and snorted again, stamping a hoof. Each time the group managed to begin herding him towards the barn, or to draw nearer to him, the clever horse darted away. None of them had enough skill to toss a rope around his neck with the wind as strong as it was. Astlyr felt soaked to the skin as she joined with the men again to try to coax the animal back towards the barn wall where they could corner him.

Arrow stopped just short of slamming into any of them, thankfully. He seemed well trained enough not to attempt to trample his masters. He also didn't look askance at Astlyr. Horses seldom did. They had no concern for appearance so much as attitude, and Astlyr put on her most dominant air as she pressed towards him again. Finally they got him hemmed in against the barn and Stanton slipped a rope around Arrow's neck. This did little to settle the horse, who protested being led by rearing and tossing his head.

“Let me,” Cullen took the rope from his grandfather. Astlyr noted for the first time that, while Stanton was taller than his grandsons, Cullen had a good deal of solid muscle on the older man. Cullen maneuvered the struggling horse more easily, with Astlyr and the other three still acting to herd the stallion along for encouragement. Astlyr tried to be the nearest Cullen, in case he needed the extra aid of her strong arms.

With Branson and Stanton holding the door open, Astlyr and Cullen coaxed, hauled and cajoled the horse into his barn, which he shared with an aging cow and several goats, who watched curiously from their own stalls.

Arrow threw his head back, jerking against the rope, trying to turn towards the door before it could close. Astlyr saw it happening, and she acted quickly. Arrow swung his body around, sensing advantage. A little loose rope. Just the hint of give in Cullen's arms.

Cullen snarled as the rope bit his skin, but the real danger was Arrow's powerful hind legs, now perfectly aimed. Astlyr intercepted the kick. She felt it land against her lower ribcage. Solid, but certainly not the worst blow she'd taken in her life. The force of it threw her into Cullen and they both fell to the ground. Astlyr took advantage of this and pressed Cullen down as a second hoof sailed over their heads before Arrow took off to try for the door. Fortunately all Stanton and Branson had to do was let the wind take the door again. The weather slammed the door shut faster than either human might have. However, it did trap the two men outside the barn for the moment.

“Are you alright?' Cullen asked urgently as the pair sat up. His eyes searched her and found the spot on her side where the hoof had torn her tunic and a bit of blood trickled. “Dammit,” he looked towards the horse, who had settled slightly now that the door was closed in his face.

“Astlyr!” Cole appeared. Fortunately the horses did not see this. A spook was the last thing they needed in such close quarters.

“Cole! Of course,” Cullen said, far beyond being startled by the spirit's abrupt comings and goings. “Why didn't I think of this at once? Can you calm Arrow down so we can put him away?”

“Carefully,” Astlyr warned, standing slowly, her hand straying to her aching side.

Cole moved with inhuman grace, which he would often bring to bear on the battlefield, to avoid any attacks the horse might make. The spirit boy reached up and placed his milky white hand against Arrow's ebony coat and spoke soothingly. Astlyr knew that Cole's special magic was at work.

As the horse calmed before their eyes, Stanton and Branson entered the barn through a smaller door at the back. They took in the scene silently. Cole with his hand on the freshly soothed horse, Cullen with his arm wrapped protectively around Astlyr, who was favoring her injury. Both men remained quiet as Cole took hold of the dangling rope around Arrow's neck and led the now docile stallion into his stall. The spirit boy slid the rope free and then exited. “He wasn't hurt when he broke loose,” Cole reassured the watchers as he hung up the rope.

Cole eyed the stall latch, which the horse had clearly broken when he saw the barn door open, and his chance for freedom at hand.

Branson stepped in with tools and skillfully worked on the latch, fitting it back into place and using a hammer to straighten a bent piece. Stanton went to the big door, which was already threatening to flap open again. He locked it from the inside this time with a long board across it.

Then the group headed for the house once more. Cullen would not take his hand from Astlyr's arm, though she reassured him constantly that she was alright. In the kitchen the women had gathered towels and warm blankets to see to the drenched horse wranglers.

“Astlyr was hurt,” Cole announced at once.

“Maker!” Rosie gasped, pushing up a chair.

“Ma, let me,” Cullen urged his grandparent as she fluttered around the room for a small bottle of elfroot extract and some bandages.

“Cullen, I told you, I'm fine. I've had much worse,” Astlyr shot Cole a glare, but he, strangely, gave her a smile in return. A rare gift, and an odd time to give it.

“Cole!” Matthias ran into the room, arms out for the spirit boy. Cole gathered the child up without a second thought. Matthias took in the scene with rapt, intelligent eyes. “Ouch?” He pointed to Astlyr.

“Yes,” Cole agreed. “She got hurt to protect Cullen from a bad horse.”

Mia's head shot up. Astlyr might have laughed aloud. Cunning Cole. The spirit knew that this tidbit of information would go miles with this family. Her attention was distracted form the good-hearted glare she was shooting towards her Spirit Companion as Cullen knelt before her and unbuttoned the front of her tunic. Of course she was still wearing her breast binding underneath. She looked down to see a crescent shaped bruise already forming on her lower ribcage, with a raw edge that was leaking a bit of blood. Cullen looked up at her, “I'm going to check for breaks.”

His rainswept face, damp hair clinging to his brow in shaggy strands, was quite possibly the most handsome thing Astlyr thought she had ever seen. “I don't think I broke anything,” Astlyr said, but Cullen gave her a warning frown. She smiled and raised her arm to make it easier for him. Cullen's fingers gingerly probed her ribcage. Astlyr felt for the familiar pain of a damaged bone. There was an ache, but nothing severe.

“Alright. I think you were right. No breaks.” Cullen looked up from where he knelt, then leaned up and kissed her. It was as natural a motion as taking a breath. Then he seemed to realize that his family was watching him. He blushed faintly, but settled for dabbing Astlyr's wound with the elfroot and wrapping a bandage in place. Astlyr glanced around at all the faces and tried to stifle a smile. Perhaps she did have a chance with these people after all.

 

“So, do you think that went well?” Astlyr asked as she and Cullen rode home a few days later.

Cullen chuckled, “as well as it could, I think. It will take some of them a while to recover from my choices. All my choices.” She knew he meant Branson especially. It hurt Cullen to think of his brother still taking lyrium, but some issues could not be mended with a simple visit. “Mia, at least, is coming around. She worries about me a great deal. Too much.”

“And your grandfather?”

“He likes you, I think. He just doesn't agree with your politics.”

“I didn't think I had any politics. Josie usually handles those for me” Astlyr said, tilting her head back, taking in another hearty breath of the spring air. Cole's arms were wrapped comfortingly around her, the boy having decided to ride with them rather than teleport. It had taken an immense effort to separate Cole from Matthias. It involved the promise of many return visits and a good deal of tears.

Astlyr took in her own little family. Cullen riding slightly ahead of her, he too enjoying the day; and Cole's close presence wrapped around her. If she one day had to adopt Cullen's family into her ever growing circle, she knew she could. At least she suspected she had made a solid beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> So there we are. I hope you enjoyed it! I hope no one was disappointed that Cole was in there as well. He just seemed like the perfect drama multiplier. Plus he's my dear cinnamon roll.
> 
> Many of Cullen's family members are loosely based on my own. There are elements of my own sisters in Mia and Rosalie, and my mother very strongly in Rosie. And yes, bits of my own father in Stanton. (I also have brothers, but Branson is nothing like them haha)
> 
> Special 'hello' to anyone who wandered over here from 'Letters From Thedas" You guys rock! I plan to keep up with those little tales as much as I can, but the holiday season is super busy for my job. After the Holidays are over, however, look forward to me probably writing my version of Trespasser!
> 
> And now for a different story. The tale of woe which was the writing of this thing!
> 
> I did what I thought was good research concerning Cullen's family. The wiki is pretty limited and message boards are hit or miss, but I thought I had it...only to have finished the story and been half way through editing before one of my spies informed me that Cullen's parents are dead. This can be found ONLY in a throw away sentence in "The World of Thedas vol 2" which I do not own. Annoyed, I went through the whole story and changed the parents to grandparents. I hope I caught and changed all the places that needed it, but if you found any mentions of Rosie and/or Stanton as mother/father, that is why.
> 
> THEN, just as I was about to put this baby to bed, another spy of mine let me know that the nephew Cullen mentions in a convo in Trespasser is actually Branson's kid. This can only be found out through a letter which appears differently if you are romancing Cullen. If you romance him, no mention is made of the nephew in that letter. So I naturally assumed that the child Mia would be talking about in her later missive to Cullen would be HER kid. Nope. That would make too much sense. Curse you, Bioware! Plus, I don't even own Trespasser, as I am still a last gen scrub and the DLC did not come out for my Xbox360. The LP I watched of Trespasser was with someone who had romanced Cullen. I never even knew this letter existed to look for it.
> 
> So yeah. the long and short of it is: as much as it rankles me deep inside, the kid will remain Mia's in the world of Astlyr's Thedas. Perhaps Branson can have one as well that we don't know about, but that'll be for a later story. Clearly I took his character in a vastly different direction.
> 
> Also note, that if any family members had names in-game besides the siblings, I was unable to find them. Feel free to let me know what they are and where you found the info though. I am trying to compile all the data I can for future works.
> 
> I hope you all have an excellent day!


End file.
